


Who Needs Logic When You're Under My Skin

by EzzyDean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5034793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama says something, breath warm against Kei’s cheek, and he snaps back to the present again; he’s been drifting to the past a lot lately.  He has no idea what was said but Kageyama looks far too smug and for a moment Kei wants to wipe the look off his face, which isn’t a new feeling.</p><p>(In which Kageyama and Tsukishima don't exactly have the healthiest way of dealing with things.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The 4k KageTsukki “drabble” I wound up writing cause @heyyyfuturefish and I were talking about fighting/playfighting that leads to angry/heavy makeouts on the floor/against the wall in reference to KageTsukki.
> 
> also because I wanted to use the “don’t look at my boner while we’re fighting” thing because I am a child.
> 
> M rating for fighting and mentions of blood and swearing, unhealthy coping mechanisms (more or less), seriously kids fighting is not the solution, set 2-3 years after Kags & Tsukki graduate from high school

Sure.  Logically he knows that what they’re doing is about as healthy as his strawberry shortcake addiction but that doesn’t stop him at all.  Hell, actually, he figures it’s step up from getting drunk and getting into a random fight with a stranger when he feels the world gnawing at his edges and the weight of his decisions breathing heavily down his back and settling clammy and sickening in his chest.  It’s definitely infinitely better than just letting his thoughts slosh around in his head, stewing in his skull and turning his brain to a mushy mess of anger and fear and frustration; he had enough of that shit back in high school thank you very much.

Sure it’s not the healthiest thing but he likes it.  Likes the burn of anger deep in his bones, frustration and rage pulsing in his veins and pounding behind his eyes, the heady rush of static in his ears when he meets cold blue eyes and pushes.  Pushes and pushes and pushes and feels the steady, angry beat of another heart under his palm for a brief flash of a moment before he shoves past the wall of muscle and rolls his eyes on the way to the door.

The heavy weight of Kageyama’s gaze on his back makes his nerves sing and sets him on edge.  Makes him feel a little like he’s the prey to Kageyama’s predator.  But he isn’t.  They’re both predators here.  They both play this game, both flirt with the razor sharp edge of the other’s willpower and frustration and temper.  The heat tightens his shoulders like a rope is pulling them backwards, taut and burning, and for a moment when Kageyama’s fingers tangle in the material in the center of his back he swears he can feel himself burning from it all.

He turns and shoves Kageyama’s arm away, meeting those disgustingly cool eyes with a level glare of his own.

That unimpressed look is back and it makes Kei wonder sometimes, especially at times like this, where that easily taunted idiot back in high school went.  The one whose insult vocabulary consisted mostly of the word “dumbass” in varying tones of irritation and, on occasion he had noticed, fondness.  The Kageyama he had left behind with Hinata to watch the sun set behind the gym at Karasuno after graduation was not the one he had run into almost two years later at some random party.  The easily baited Kageyama who used to rise to a fight with a simple cock of Kei’s head and raise of his eyebrows wasn’t the one who didn’t even bat an eye when Kei had slid right back into that mocking asshole he had been in high school (and still was on occasion even now.)  The volleyball brained Kageyama from then was definitely not the one who had given Kei a level look, recognition barely flickering across his face as he met his eyes, and suggested he “go find someone to bend you over a couch, Tsukishima, and take the stick out of your ass and replace it with something else.”

Kageyama in high school was a mostly known variable but still one Kei couldn’t handle.  That passion for volleyball dictating his life and his biggest decision being which vending machine to get milk out of wasn’t something Kei could deal with.

But this Kageyama… This Kageyama who gave as good as Kei did, who pushed back and lashed out with all the fierceness he used to keep contained, who wasn’t afraid to draw blood with his words, or his fists on occasion, this Kei could handle.  This Kageyama with his cool eyes burning like he could bore holes straight into Kei’s soul and judge him for what he found there and his ability to dig under Kei’s skin and bury himself there like a tick was something he could wrap his head around.

Because Kageyama used him the same way Kei used Kageyama.  Kei would bump into him between classes or at a party or out getting groceries and just know.  Kageyama pushed him, dug at him, demanded his attention with barbed smirks and wicked words that sent Kei straight into a bubbling anger that had him pushing back in an instant.

Not long after that party they had ran into each other and Kei had been thigh deep in months worth of frustration and misery, slogging through everything and wondering just what the hell he was supposed to be doing, and he had literally bumped straight into Kageyama without meaning to and without realizing who it was until he had looked up, half-assed apology on the tip of his tongue until he meet Kageyama’s eyes and felt his lips curve up into a smirk instead.

That night had ended with Kageyama’s split lip bleeding into Kei’s shoulder as they collapsed, exhausted, against the back wall of Kei’s apartment building, and Kei blinked into the dark alley and wondered if Kageyama had busted his glasses when he tried to break Kei’s nose.  He had sniffed experimentally, grimacing when his nose cleared and he could taste dried blood in his mouth.

The next time it had been Kageyama whose apology died on his lips when he met Kei’s eyes.  He didn’t know what weight was crushing Kageyama then but he could recognize the spark of challenge that shimmered between them when Kageyama’s muscles went loose and honestly Kei could have walked away when Kageyama turned his back on him in the bar and headed for the door.  He knew he should walk away.  Join his classmates at their table in the back or just get some fresh air and walk home.  Clear his head a little and just forget about it.

They wound up a couple blocks away, tucked into a dimly lit alley and resting against the cool brick wall of the art supply store Kageyama lives above.  This time Kei’s pressing his bloody cheek into Kageyama’s shoulder and wondering if the throb in his hand from scraping against Kageyama’s teeth should remind him so much of the throb of jammed fingers from volleyball.  Kageyama grunts, sharp words about Kei living in his brother’s shadow and Kageyama being a friendless dictator sinking into the concrete at their feet already half forgotten and buried as Kageyama shifts and watches Kei relax against him now that the fight has drained them both.

They shove away from each other after a few more moments and Kei leaves the alleyway without so much as a glance back.  He didn’t need to look when he could _feel_ Kageyama’s gaze, heavy on his back but somehow less oppressive and demanding than he remembers it being.

There are times they see each other and they don’t try to drag the other into a fight.  The occasional glance at each other in the library or in passing on the street.  But nine times out of ten if their eyes meet so do they.

At some point, Kei has trouble pinpointing when exactly it happens, something shifts.  The only thing he knows is it happens after Kageyama disappears for a few weeks, he assumes he went home or something but they don’t exactly have a sit down for a cup of tea and chat about things relationship.  All he knows for sure is that something changes and the next time they meet, the next time Kei has Kageyama’s wrists pressed into a rough brick wall and Kageyama is spitting out insults at him and doing his best to wrench away so he can “punch that fucking smirk” off of Kei’s face his eyes drop and suddenly his lips are smashed against Kei’s with a clack of teeth that echoes in his brain as his fingers loosen on Kageyama’s wrists.  He’s pinned against the wall a moment later as Kageyama’s hands press his wrists into the brick and he leans in with all his weight.

It’s nothing to write home about; all teeth and harsh breaths that Kei finds himself returning even as Kageyama pulls away and watches him, eyes hooded and cautious when Kei simply watches him in return.

After that their bruised cheeks give way to bruised lips by the end of their fights, fingers tangled angrily in hair and nails digging into the soft skin of their wrists, leaving dark crescent moons that Kei rubs absently as he stares at his ceiling and drifts off to sleep later in the night.

Something else shifts with this new adjustment to their little routine.  Their fights aren’t limited to just dark corners and dimly lit alleyways anymore, brick walls rough against their backs and their movements echoing in the dark.  Kei actually sees the inside of Kageyama’s above the art supply shop apartment, quite a few times actually since he has neighbors and people to worry about disturbing with their angry shouts and wall rattling shoves - not that he really worries about it but it’s nice to let go and not deal with frustrated neighbors and potential police interruption in his own home - but Kageyama has the entire upper floor of the two story building to himself.

Which is where they are now - Kageyama’s apartment.  

It’s probably been close to a year and a half since that party where Kageyama told Kei to go get himself fucked in a way that was more eloquent than he would have ever expected Kageyama to be able to express himself and their way of dealing with their frustration and anger at everything isn’t much healthier, though Kei has to admit that angrily making out for a good half hour at the end of their little brawls is at least a little more fulfilling than just beating the crap out of each other for twenty minutes and stumbling home.

Kei had been in absolutely no mood to play nice today when he bumped into Kageyama at the convenience store.  It had been a shitty day at the end of a shitty week and he at downright sneered at Kageyama when his armload of sports drinks and easy-to-make healthy meals had scattered at his feet when their shoulders met.  It hadn’t been intentional but Kei sneered like it had.  Like Kageyama was the most disgusting thing he had seen all day and not the most relieving one.  Kageyama had bent down and collected his things, ignoring Kei as if he hadn’t done a thing, as if Kageyama had simply dropped his stuff on accident instead of losing his grip because of running into someone and that was the final straw.  That was the spark that lit Kei’s temper and he followed Kageyama out of the store and back to his apartment, completely forgetting that he had gone to the store for food himself and nothing else.

Kageyama didn’t hold back.  He hasn’t ever since that party.  The days where Kageyama simply glowered and stumbled over his own tongue were back at Karasuno.  A distant memory of a time that seems so much longer ago than a few years in Kei’s mind.  The Kageyama here with him now knows exactly what to say, which words will slice the deepest and cut out the acidic ball of emotions that infects Kei’s life and to be fair Kei knows what words will rip under Kageyama’s skin and snap his control apart and when to use them.  

Like he said, he admits it’s not healthy but it works out for them in the end because when he falls asleep at night and allows himself to reflect on it he knows that neither of them really mean what they say outside of the heat of the moment.  Kageyama’s actually one of the only people he trusts to say what they mean and not lie to him which is something he doesn’t really feel like putting too much thought into on a good day - the fact that he honestly trusts Kageyama that is - and today has definitely not been a good day.

Which is why standing in the hallway watching Kageyama calmly put away his armload of groceries like he doesn’t see Kei and can’t feel his frustrated gaze on his back irritates him so much.  The fact that Kageyama of all people is ignoring Kei standing in his hallway at the end of an already shitty day just isn’t right.  Kageyama somehow knows just how much that digs at Kei, how much that hurts him and makes the acid creep up his throat and squeeze at his lungs, yet he does it anyway.  He puts away the drinks in the fridge, taking a moment to line them up neatly on one side, and then places a few boxes into his cupboards, rearranging things to some order that only he knows and understands, before folding up the bag and setting it in a box of other bags under the sink and finally, _finally_ , turning to look Kei in the eye.

“You know if that’s how you are anyone could come in after you and beat the crap out of you.  Steal some of your shitty stuff and run off with it and it would be your own fault.”

“The only person who follows me home and lurks in my hallways you.  I lock the door behind me otherwise.”

“So what?  You’re saying I should feel special or something?”

“If that’s what you want.”  Kageyama steps past him, bumping their shoulders together to nudge Kei out of the way, eyes once again distant as he passes him.  He feels everything in himself go tense at that.  He can feel everything bubbling under his skin freeze solid, ice in his veins, and then he snaps as Kageyama repeats himself.  “If that’s what you want.”

Because that’s the kicker, isn’t it?  That’s the biggest pain in the ass shitty thing to top off his already shitty week.  He doesn’t know what he wants anymore.  Hell sometimes he barely feels like he knows which way is up.  So he gives in and lets the ice seep from his veins as his frustration and rage boil over.

His hand is fisted in Kageyama’s shirt and he’s practically slamming him into the wall before he realizes he’s even moving.  His fingers go cold as his frustration washes over him and he sneers.

“What’s the matter, King?  Too good to look me in the face and talk to me now?”  Kageyama stares at him with narrowed eyes, completely unsurprised by the move, and Kei loses track of things for a little bit as anger colors his vision.  What right does Kageyama have to look at him like that, like he isn’t just as fucked up about life in general as Kei is?  Like he doesn’t push and prod and shove Kei into walls in anger.  

Honestly it could be hours that he loses but is probably just a few minutes.  Then he blinks hard and comes back to Kageyama’s hallway where Kageyama has Kei’s hands pinned on either side of his head and he can’t even remember when Kageyama got the upperhand on him.

Kageyama’s eyes are still cool, not cold and distant, but definitely not flaring the way Kei’s temper is and suddenly the moment reminds him of the first time they had been this close, the first time after that party that they had upgraded from scathing words and sharp looks that had cut and burned to physically getting into the other’s face, fists bruised and raw as they stared at each other, breath heavy between them.

Kageyama had had Kei’s hands pinned back then too, fingers slowly loosening as he blinked until he could focus on Kei’s face.

“Huh,” he had muttered, “I feel better now.”

Simple words which had led Kei to the bitter realization that, “Shit so do I.”

Their fists stung, bruises already forming on various parts of their bodies, blood slowly oozing from cuts and scrapes yet Kei felt lighter than he had in years.  Like beating the crap out of each other had pulled a bunch of the shitty feelings deep inside and just let them wash away somehow.

Kageyama says something, breath warm against Kei’s cheek, and he snaps back to the present again; he’s been drifting to the past a lot lately.  He has no idea what was said but Kageyama looks far too smug and for a moment Kei wants to wipe the look off his face, which isn’t new.  What is new, or at least it’s the first time it’s been in the front of his mind, is the fact that he doesn’t want to punch him to achieve that goal.  He just wants the kissing.  Just wants to skip the knees to the stomach and punches thrown and just get to the angrily making out fingers in hair and warm body pressed to his own.

That thought startles him more than anything and he maybe panics a little.  His breath catches at the gleam in Kageyama’s eyes and he turns his head and sinks his teeth into Kageyama’s wrist, hard enough to bruise but not quite enough to draw blood and Kageyama actually yelps in surprise.

Kei sinks to the floor when Kageyama lets go of his wrists and tries to process what exactly the fuck is going on in his mind.

Kageyama rubs his wrist and Kei can feel his eyes on him as he watches him, probably trying to figure out what’s happening.

They’ve argued.  They’ve fought.  They’ve kicked and thrown punches.  They’ve let their frustrations roll from sharp words to rough punches to angry kisses.  But even then they’ve been detached, or as detached as you can get when you’re making out with someone.  Their kisses aren’t chaste but they’re not personal.  He’s never tasted Kageyama’s skin outside of his lips when they kiss and his knuckles when they meet his mouth but now he can’t get the salt of Kageyama’s skin out of his mouth, out of his mind.

He finally looks up into Kageyama’s eyes and feels his frustration returning when he can’t figure out what’s there.  Kageyama’s never been easy to read, exactly, but he’s never been this closed off either and he’s never looked at Kei like he’s doesn’t know him or is afraid of him and that, more than anything else, pisses him off right now.  Then Kageyama blinks and that unfamiliarity is gone but there’s something soft there as he brings his foot back to kick at Kei.

It’s easy for him to hook Kageyama’s ankle and pull him down.  Especially since Kageyama barely put enough force into the kick to even hurt him had it connected.  The realization of that settles something in his chest and he doggedly ignores it by pushing up into Kageyama’s space and knocking him backwards, pinning him to the floor with a kiss that’s suddenly hotter than anything else he’s had in ages.

It’s hot, in a comforting way that standing in front of a heater is on a cold day, and Kei sinks down into it.  Kageyama may be the one flat on his back but Kei feels like he’s still being pinned in place.  Especially when Kageyama’s fingers dig into his hip and curl against the base of his neck almost possessively as he deepens the kiss.  Kei lets Kageyama lick against his lips, opens them when he presses for it, and he isn’t disappointed in the result in the least.  Heat slithers through his body, different than before, heavier and tighter and much more damning considering the cause for it is Kageyama fucking Tobio.  Kageyama Tobio who is letting out a shuddering breath against Kei’s cheek and drawing him back in for another kiss.

Kei is drowning and it’s all Kageyama’s fault.  Infuriating Kageyama who pushes as hard as he does and isn’t afraid to sneer back at him and put him in his place.  Something that would never have, and never did, happen back in high school.  Then again high school Kei never ever imagined that he would be practically ready to start undressing Kageyama on the floor of his apartment over a kiss.

He needs to stop, to anchor himself in the present before he drifts away again and he pulls Kageyama’s lip between his teeth and bites down, copper flooding his senses as Kageyama jerks back and smacks his head against the floor.

“Asshole,” Kageyama hisses as he licks his lips gingerly, fingers still tight against Kei’s hip as Kei sits up and glares down at him.

“You were going to kick me while I was down.  Cheap shot.”

“You’re the one who started it and followed me home.  You’re the one who shoved me into a wall.  Inside my own apartment.  You wanted my attention and you got it.”

Kei can feel the blood drain from his face.  “Fuck you,” he bites out.

“Get off me,” Kageyama replies in that infuriatingly calm tone he tends to take with Kei.

Kei shifts, intending on telling Kageyama that it’s hard to get off of him when he’s still got his fingers practically bruising his hip, and freezes.  Because there is something else hard happening.  He shifts onto his knees and draws himself up before dropping his gaze.  That is definitely something he hasn’t noticed before.  Then again even when they fight they rarely wind up this close for this long.

“Don’t look at my boner when we’re fighting.”

Kei feels the laughter bubbling up and he drops forward again, pressing his forehead into Kageyama’s shoulder as his breath hitches and he damn near giggles into the fabric of Kageyama’s shirt.  One hand is still, still, on his hip and Kageyama’s other comes up to rest on the other hip, tensing and relaxing as Kei snickers at him and them and this whole situation.  His whole fucking life is one giant joke to him right now, if he were to be honest, and he can’t do anything but laugh at it.

Kageyama shifts and tenses, ready to move Kei off, and Kei takes a breath.  He’s not sure he’s ready to face this, face the way the balance is shifting between them, and he suddenly turns his head and nips hard at Kageyama’s jaw.

“Fuck,” Kageyama hisses again and his fingers tense and Kei can feel him hardening under him again.

“Oho the King likes that does he?”  He breathes against Kageyama’s neck.  He knows he’s flirting with a lot of things right now but somehow he can’t really find it in himself to care about anything except for the fact that Kageyama’s neck tastes like sweat and he can feel Kageyama’s pulse racing under his lips.

“Shut up and get the fuck off of me if you’re going to be an asshole about it now that you’re done with your temper tantrum.”

“Oh I think you were giving as good as I was there, Kageyama.”

Kei expects Kageyama to rise to the bait.  Usually nothing really pisses Kageyama off faster these days than alluding that he and Kei are more alike than not about a lot of things.

Kageyama’s full of surprises tonight it seems.  Because all he does is stare up at Kei.

“So what if I was?”  Kageyama sits up slowly and Kei wonders a little in the back of his mind at how nicely they fit together when his legs shift and stretch out behind Kageyama.  “So what if I enjoy this in a more physical sense than you do?”  They’re pressed together waist to chest and Kageyama’s fingers pull Kei’s hips forward and those thoughts in the back of his mind switch gears to wondering just when he started finding this whole thing as arousing as he apparently is.  “You never pushed away the kisses.  You even started a few of them and you’re certainly not trying too hard to get away right now.”  

Kageyama has a pretty nice voice when he’s not throwing angry insults back at Kei with a vehemence that would make even his high school self a little jealous and Kei wonders why he’s just now realizing it, along with a lot of things.  But Kageyama’s talking again and Kei feels like he should probably be listening.

“We’ve been dancing around each other for years.  Dancing around this,” he tugs Kei’s hips forward and Kei’s heartbeat jumps at the contact, “for months now.  So tell me, Tsukishima.  What do you want?  Because I’m tired.”

Tired of what exactly?  Tired of today?  Tired of the way they go after each other?  Tired of life?  Tired of the way his week has gone?  Tired of Tsukishima himself?

He knows that Kageyama’s passion runs deeper than his, that’s always been a fact of life since the day they met, and that his anger is quick to come but just as quick to dissipate.  But Kei’s frustration and anger run so deep they have roots coming out of this feet.  Kageyama is the only thing that has really pulled it out of him as quickly as he has and he isn’t sure what to do with that.  With any of this.

“I don’t know.  I don’t fucking know, okay?”

Kageyama stares at him for a moment and then shrugs.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay.  It’s fine not to know.”

Kei’s eyes narrow behind his glasses.  “Don’t pity me.  Or mock me.”

“I’m not.  Honestly I’d rather go back to the heavily making out part and the hair pulling if it’s all the same to you.  I just wondered if you had any particular thoughts about what we were doing.”

Kageyama makes it sound so simple and for the first time in a long time, in years, Kei wonders what it might be like to see the world so neatly and simply.

“Fine.  You’re still an asshole, shut up.”

“So are you.”  Kageyama gives him a look that makes every nerve stand on end and Kei isn’t sure if it’s from anger or arousal and he doesn’t care too much when Kageyama smirks.  “And if you want me to shut up then try making me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“If you ever want to play volleyball again I wouldn’t recommend trying to find out.”

"Is that supposed to be a threat?  I don’t even play regularly anymore.”

“It is a threat and I swear I will break your fingers if you try it.”

“You really still have that stick up your ass don’t you?”  

Kei huffs a breath out of his nose and does his best to resist rolling his eyes.  He had forgotten sometimes how much being around Kageyama gave him that urge.  Funny how some things really don’t change.

“You’re really concerned about what’s up my ass aren’t you, Kageyama?”

“Nice to know what’s up there when I’m not.  Other than your own head that is.”

Kei can only stare as Kageyama turns away from him and walks down the sidewalk as if he wasn’t the one who started this entire conversation when they bumped into each other outside the laundromat.  He’s the one who randomly asked if Kei was ticklish in the middle of the conversation and now he’s just walking away as if they had been discussing the weather and leaving Kei staring after him, bag of dirty laundry in his hand and a confused scrunch on his face.  Kei’s not entirely sure if the conversation had actually ended or if Kageyama was just being an asshole and walking away in the middle of it.

Yet another thing that hasn’t changed much over the years: Kageyama still confuses the hell out of him the majority of the time.

Their way of dealing with things has upgraded from biting remarks to speaking with fists to angry kisses to simply dragging each other to the nearest bed to fuck their frustrations out of their systems.  Kei thinks about it as he waits for his laundry, the whirring and thumps of the machines making for an almost peaceful background noise as his mind wanders.

It’s not really hate sex exactly.  At least he doesn’t think it is, since they don’t really hate each other.  They’ve moved slightly past being indifferent but they’re still a decent cry away from being close friends or anything.  They were never really even friends in high school.  

Karasuno was some almost magical place or something that made everyone work together and get along but for the most part it only lasted while they were there.  At least for Kei.  Sure he and Yamaguchi talked a lot still but that was part of the whole childhood friends thing.  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen Hinata since he left him and Kageyama behind at graduation and the only reason he really knows what’s happening in Yachi’s life is because so much of it overlaps with Yamaguchi’s.  As for their senpai other than the times they came to games or practices he hasn’t seen or heard from them since they graduated.

There was one practice match their third year that slips into the front of his mind and he remembers with almost frightening clarity the way that Kageyama had blushed, cheeks turning a shade of pink that wasn’t exertion from the game when Sugawara had suddenly cheered for them from the stands; none of them had even realized any of their senpai had shown up for it and the familiar cry of support had startled Kei enough that he had slipped out of his game mode for just a moment.  Just long enough to glance around and notice the pleased flush on Kageyama’s face before he shut it down with a deep breath as his eyes skittered over the team, catching Kei’s for a second before dropping to the ball in his hands as he spun it and set up for his serve.

He transfers his laundry to the dryer and shakes his head.  There he was drifting again.  He really hated when his brain decided to just take a holiday like that and leave him on a lifeboat in his memories.  Especially lately.  As if trying to focus on what the hell he was supposed to be doing with his life wasn’t hard enough on a normal day he had to combat this… drifting.

It wasn’t merely frustrating.  It pissed him off.  He’d be trying to study and suddenly find himself twenty minutes, or more, later staring at his notebook and coming out of thoughts of high school or volleyball.  The more unnerving times were when he’d snap back and be staring down at his blank notebook with no idea just where his brain has been for the last forty-five minutes.

Kei’s not stupid.  He knows part of it is the fact that he’s just not sure about things right now.  Not sure if the course he had decided for his future when he graduated high school is really where he wants to be going.  Not sure if it’s right for him.  Not sure how to tell his family, to disappoint them yet again by being so passive in his life that he’s spent the last three years studying a course he dislikes simply because it was easier than facing himself and figuring out what he actually wanted to do.  

He doesn’t like the way that unsureness seeps into his skin and makes him squirm.  The way it makes his skin feel too tight and his arms feel ungainly and long like he’s twelve again and already a head taller than half his classmates and so out of place.  He feels stupid when he accidentally overhears a classmate talking passionately about their major or their projects or even their hobbies.

As long as he could remember his hobbies had been volleyball, dinosaurs, listening to music, and reading various magazines.  It’s the same now but at his age his hobbies are so childish feeling that he prefers staying silent and he’s content enough to take his aloof asshole label from high school and slap it on again now.  Sure he goes to the occasional party and gets reasonably drunk with his classmates and sometimes he even goes out to dinner or a bar with them.  He can hold a conversation well enough while drunk that they don’t hate him afterwards but that’s about it.  There’s no substance to anything anymore, least of all to him, and it’s starting to eat away at him.

He finds himself wondering if there’s any more depth to Kageyama than there was in high school - there has to be, he tells himself, since he’s more than just the volleyball brained idiot he used to be with all his insults now and sarcasm and lack of that lock on his thoughts that used to hold him back - and he suddenly drops the jeans he was folding into his bag with an angry growl.  He shoves the rest of his clothes into the bag and stalks out of the laundromat; he lost a good hour in his thoughts that time and came back to them with god damn Kageyama on his brain.  He shivers as he heads back to his apartment; how unsettling.

  
  


There was a brief period of time back in their third year that the thought of having Kageyama’s full attention, dark blue eyes wide and head tilted slightly in concentration, almost frightened him.  Kageyama had these moments of intensity that wound up rivaling that creepy focus that Hinata got during matches but they would crop up at the oddest times like during practice or lunch or while they all studied in the library together and Kageyama would catch someone’s gaze.

That intensity hasn’t changed, even though it’s been close to four years since they graduated, and it still sends a finger of unease running down his spine when Kageyama looks at him that way.  Like Kei is the only thing he’s focused on in the entire world for those long seconds.

There’s so much he hates about Kageyama Tobio in this moment when their eyes meet and the light from the bathroom filters into Kageyama’s bedroom and paints his skin with a sharp whiteness that makes Kei feel exposed even though he’s in the darker part of the bed under Kageyama’s shadow.  That diving depth of Kageyama’s gaze that bores straight into him and hooks him, dragging him under the surface and drowning him in a murky mess of feelings that he’d rather not have.  

“Did you forget what you’re doing up there?”  Kei snaps and pinches Kageyama’s sides hard.  Kageyama’s eyes narrow and for a moment Kei thinks he won’t rise to the bait, that he’ll let it roll away like he’s been doing more and more each time they meet up like this and it makes him uneasy.  Because he was never supposed to feel a sense of contentment and companionship beyond the surface of finding a mutual frustrated soul who dealt with their issues as explosively as Kei did and that’s a feeling that’s coming dangerously close to the surface every day it seems.  They’re supposed to be prickly and pushy and too sharp and too much for each other and not enough at the same time.

Kageyama’s eyes narrow even further and the nails of the hand resting against Kei’s chest dig into his skin.

This he can handle.  The sharp flare of anger.  The bite of pain.  The steady pulse of frustration and irritation in his ears.  The hard shadows of Kageyama’s face as he pushes them both over the edge and Kei’s nails drag down his back and arms, weaving words between the red lines he leaves on Kageyama’s skin that he’d really rather not read later that night when Kageyama digs into his dresser and that sharp bright light from the bathroom illuminates the story on his skin that Kei refuses to understand.

Kei isn’t stupid and he knows that, unfortunately, Kageyama isn’t a complete moron either.  One of these times one of them will slip up and there won’t be any going back from it.

“Tsukishima?”

Kei blinks hard and pinches the bridge of his nose, like it’s a chore just to be here with Kageyama and not the comfort it’s becoming.

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to shower.”

“And get the lingering layer of your sweat off me?  Of course.”

“You can take one after I’m done then.” Kageyama grabs his clothes and walks away, completely unembarrassed by his nudity and the angry red lines marring his skin, and leaves Kei alone.  

Which is fine.  

Kei is fine alone.  

He’s been alone most of his life it seems.  He doesn’t need cuddling and hand holding and falling asleep under stifling sheets tangled uncomfortably with another body.  In fact if he were as smart as he acts like he is he would just get up right now, dig his clothes out of pile near the bedroom door where his and Kageyama’s are heaped together, and just go home.  Back to his sterile apartment among his polite neighbors where every single thing in the apartment has a place; except for him, it feels like more and more these days.

Instead he stays.  Sits among Kageyama’s still warm sheets that smell like sweat and sex and a little like the two of them.  Stays in a room inside an apartment that isn’t messy but is lived in.  If he squints he knows he’ll see a pile of magazines on the desk in the corner, mostly sports but with an occasional art supply and photography one from Kageyama’s job downstairs tossed in.  He knows it without being able to see it clearly.  Just like he knows that if he were to go searching Kageyama would have precisely one bottle of the kind of sports drink Kei likes in his fridge which he usually leaves on the counter after nights like this for Kei to sometimes grab on his way out if he feels like it.  And he knows that there’s an extra toothbrush that’s stuck in the medicine cabinet in it’s own little travel holder that is there, again, for nights like these with Kei.

He’s in no way a major part of Kageyama’s life but there are pieces of him here, little globs of color that stand out from the normal scenery that is Kageyama’s life and home and Kei doesn’t feel like dwelling too long on the way that makes him feel.

“Still here?”

Kageyama’s voice yanks him from his drifting thoughts.

“Am I not supposed to be?”  Kei bites back.  Kageyama simply shrugs and continues drying his hair off with the towel draped around his neck.

“Told you before.  I don’t mind if you stay or go.  You know where the door is.  And the couch and the bed.  Your life your choices.”

God fucking damn Kageyama to hell and back.  If only it were that simple.  If only decisions being “his choice” was enough.  There’s so much weight on every choice, doesn’t Kageyama understand that?  Kei isn’t his brother, refuses to be broken by his choices, drug down and crushed under pointless dreams, no matter how far he had distanced himself from those memories and that mind set in high school they’re still there.

He doesn’t have that magical bubble of Karasuno to make everything bright and shiny and show him the power of friendship.

“What the hell happened to you after high school?”  If Kei didn’t know how seriously Kageyama took his role as an athlete he’d assume that this newer mellower Kageyama was seriously high or on something.  It had been enough of a shock when he had eventually found out that Kageyama wasn’t on any official team but this calm Kageyama who just rolled with life was a little frightening.

He can feel Kageyama’s gaze narrowing in on him and he refuses to squirm, no matter how much he wants to under that magnifying glass gaze.

“Are you actually curious?”

Kei huffs and rolls his eyes, dragging the sheet off the bed with him as he stands up and shuffles to the bathroom.  He needs a shower.  He doesn’t need to delve into the mysteries of what happened to his former classmate after they graduated.

 

But not needing to know doesn’t mean that whisper of curiosity doesn’t echo through his mind.

“And if I am curious?”  Kei asks later, though he’s not sure just how much later because he got lost in his thoughts again, mind drifting until the cool water pulled him back to the present.  He props himself against the bathroom doorway, towel wrapped around his hips, and watches a blurry Kageyama glance up from the magazine in his lap and shrug.  Even from this distance without his glasses on Kei can see the red lines across Kageyama’s chest and the smallest niggling of concern pops up about the ones on his back and the fact he knows they can’t be comfortable.  Probably why Kageyama didn’t bother pulling a shirt on.

“I can tell you,” Kageyama says.  “It’s not a secret or anything.”  He pauses like he’s waiting for Kei to move closer and when he doesn’t Kageyama sighs a little but doesn’t mention it.  “I got into University on a sports scholarship, no surprise.  I mean we both know my academics have never been the best.  It was a whole different world than Karasuno was and I kept pushing myself to be the best.  Because the best got to stand on the court longer, got to keep going, got to play more.  I pushed until I couldn’t anymore.”  Kageyama licks his lips and finally looks away from Kei, eyes wandering towards his dresser.  “I wound up in an emergency room.  Wrist ankle and shoulder.  Funny thing.  The sports rehab center they sent me to for a consultation?  Oikawa was interning there.  We talked.  Like adults, surprisingly though he still refused to call me anything but Tobio-chan.”

Kei finally pulls away from the doorway and settles onto the edge of the bed, tired of standing, not because Kageyama’s voice was getting quieter and he wanted to hear what he was saying.

“And what?  That’s it?”

“We discussed why I got injured and how to prevent it getting worse.  In the end I told him that I just want to keep playing.  Then I realized I can do that on any team but if I kept playing in University at the level I was and the way I was there would be a point soon where I wouldn’t be able to play at all.”  Kageyama’s fingers slide across the glossy cover of the magazine in his lap and Kei remembers seeing those fingers bruised and bent and wrapped in tape, caressing a volleyball like a lover before tossing it up for a killer serve.  “So after thinking about it a lot I decided to resign from the University team.  Wound up quitting University completely.  I’m not exactly higher education material.”  He smiles softly when Kei snorts.  “But that’s okay with me.  I like where I am.  I live above where I work.  I make enough money to get by and pay bills.  I play on a neighborhood team.  We actually played against Sugawara and Iwaizmui’s team last week.”

“Simple as that?”  Kei’s mind is whirling, throwing up piles of words and half-formed poisonous thoughts of how disgustingly easy it was for Kageyama to just… give in.  To give up everything he had worked for, to give up everything Karasuno had helped him to grow and achieve.  It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, bile rising in his throat, as memories surface of all those extra practices he and Yamaguchi and Hinata had gone through with Kageyama.  The hours and hours spent training and layering bruises upon bruises across their skin like war paint.  “You just gave up everything just like that?”

Kageyama gives him a look that makes Kei’s mouth go dry, eyes narrow and disgusted.

“Believe it or not my choice wasn’t simple.  It wasn’t easy to decide to walk away from everything I knew and start new.  Volleyball was my  _ life  _ and I made the decision that took me away from it.”  He stiffens his back and stares down his nose at Kei, voice going flat.  Words sharpened to fine points prick at Kei.  “Hinata refused to talk to me for a  _ month  _ when I told him my choice.  I fought for what I have now.  I fought for my peace of mind and what happiness I have.  Don’t act like you’re all high and mighty, Tsukishima.  You’re miserable.”  Kei opens his mouth to snap back but Kageyama refuses to let him speak, eyes going cold and distant, looking right through Kei and past him, like he’s barely even worth the space he’s taking up.  “You know it and I know it.  You’ve let yourself get dragged down into a hole of passiveness because you’re, what?  Too afraid of becoming your brother?  Too lazy to bother changing your ways?  Too afraid to actually make a decision about yourself and be held accountable for it?”

Kei hates that Kageyama can get under his skin like this.  He hates that Kageyama knows what buttons to press and which scabs he can rip off with only a couple words.  He hates that Kageyama has grown and lost the things that made him quiet and kept his stupid mouth shut in high school.

Mostly he absolutely loathes that Kageyama is right.

He stands with a huff of contempt and digs his clothes from the pile near the door.

“My life, my choices,” Kageyama says from right behind him and Kei startles a little at the closeness of his voice.  He turns back to give him a snippy comment but freezes when Kageyama steps forward and kisses his cheek, soft and kind in a way that they just  aren’t with each other.  “Your life, your choices, Tsukishima.”  They stare at each other for a moment and when Kageyama finally looks away and heads back to his bed Kei feels like he just failed some kind of test.

 

Kageyama’s voice fills his head as he shoves his feet into his shoes and pulls his jacket on.   _ “You know where the door is.  And the couch and the bed.” _ He pauses with his hand outstretched, fingers barely brushing the cool doorknob that would lead outside and down the stairs into the alley.   _ “Your life your choices.” _

Was it really that simple?

Was it really as easy as dropping his hand, toeing off his shoes, tossing his jacket back on the hook and turning around?  Curling up on the couch or slipping back into Kageyama’s bed?

Did he want to go back to his apartment and drag himself through his homework before falling into a cold bed and forcing himself back out of it to sit through classes he hated?

Could he handle the consequences of either choice?


	3. Chapter 3

Emotions coil around Kei like snakes, twisting and turning between his limbs and surrounding him with writhing frustration and constricting confusion as he tosses and turns and tries to throw them off.  

In his mind he’s in Kageyama’s apartment, words sticking in his throat behind a tongue swollen with pride as Kageyama stares down at him with those eyes.  That intense stare that sees far too much of Kei.  That cuts straight through his walls like a cold wind and bites at his very soul with bitter teeth.

Cold blue eyes that make the snow pressing against the windows and the delicate frost patterns on the glass seem warm in comparison as Kageyama stares at him.

And stares at him.

And just fucking stares at him until Kei feels his skin crawling and he itches to just get away from that look.  Those eyes.

“Your life, your choices,” Kageyama says, watching as Kei startles and then leaning in close, lips brushing cooly, softly, against Kei’s heated cheek.  “My life, my choices.”

His words thunder in Kei’s ears, echoing and chasing each other through his suddenly empty mind.  He watches with a growing sense of dread pooling in his stomach and churning wildly as Kageyama turns away from him, eyes going sad at the last moment before he shows Kei his back and Kei’s eyes go wide.

Red lines rise up on Kageyama’s back bracketing all the things Kei has refused to acknowledge.  Refused to say.

_ Don’t leave. _

_ Don’t get rid of me. _

_ I’m scared of you. _

_ I’m scared of us. _

_ I love you. _

 

The words dance on Kageyama’s skin as he strides away from Kei.  Always ahead of him.  Always showing his back, taking the world on those shoulders that seem so much broader from the back like this.  Always going forward and daring the others in his life to follow him.

Kei’s eyes burn and his vision blurs.  His throat clenches and clicks and goes dry as he tries to call Kageyama back, tries to get that anger of Kageyama’s to rise to the surface and flare up so it can burn Kei in it’s heat.

“Your life, your choices.  My life, my choices.”

The words circle like vultures, ready to pluck and tear at his soul the moment they sense his resolve cracking.

“No.  Don’t.”  Kageyama pauses, turns his head the tiniest bit, but doesn’t turn around.  Kei’s fingers unclench from his side and tremble as they reach out.  “Just.  Don’t.  Don’t go.”  Kageyama’s pajama pants are just out of reach and Kei watches his fingers tremble and twitch in and out of a fist as the words climb up his throat and spill, broken and rough, from his lips.  “Don’t.  Don’t leave me.  I… fuck.”

Kageyama’s palms are gentle when they cup Kei’s cheek and he blinks up in shock as Kageyama kisses his forehead.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.  You know where my door is.  And my couch and my bed.”

Kei frowns because that’s not quite right.  Those aren’t quite the way the words were supposed to come out.

He blinks and shudders and then the world goes bright.

He’s shivering on the floor of his bedroom, blankets tangled around him and wooden floor cold under him as he slowly sits up.

“A dream,” he mutters to himself.  “A nightmare.”  He scrubs at his face and runs a rough hand through his hair.

The wind picks up outside and hard snowflakes batter his window, little clicking claws that scrabble to get in and seep under his skin, chilling him to the bone and he glares blearily at the glass.  He’s just so damn tired.

Kageyama’s voice slips into his mind, unannounced but not entirely unwanted.   _ “So tell me, Tsukishima.  What do you want?” _

“I don’t know.  I told you that.  I don’t fricking know anything.”  Kei’s voice sounds tiny to him.  Especially in this apartment.  “I just, ugh.”

_ “Okay.” _  The Kageyama voice in his head replies and if Kei hadn’t just woken up from a nightmare and that he still feels a bit unsettled and foggy because of he would worry that he’s having a conversation with a Kageyama in his head.   _ “It’s okay not to know.” _

“I know I’m not happy,” Kei mutters.  He already knows what he’ll hear before it comes.

_ “I fought for what happiness I have.  My life, my choices.” _

“Your life, your choices, huh?  And damn the consequences.”

_ “No.” _  The Kageyama voice in his head bites out.   _ “Accept the consequences.  There are always consequences.  You make a choice and go from there.  You don’t have to know anything to make a choice so long as you accept the consequences.” _

“‘You don’t have to know anything to make a choice’?  True words of an idiot king.” Kei finally pulls himself off the floor and throws his tangled mess of blankets onto the bed.  “Wonder what that makes me,” he says around a yawn as he ignores the stack of books on his desk and wanders towards the bathroom.  “Since I’m actually considering listening to you.”

 

Kei doesn’t have the slightest clue what he’s doing, other than skipping his afternoon classes for the third time this week, when he turns the corner and the art shop, and Kageyama’s apartment above it, come into view.  He huddles a little further into his scarf when the wind picks up and throws shards of snowflakes in his face.  There’s really no point in being here, he tells himself even as he steps up to the door of the store and slips inside, biting wind trying to chase after him.  He’s not even interested in art or art supplies and he never would have imagined that Kageyama of all people would be either.

The supplies aren’t mysterious objects or anything, though Kei’s not sure what you would need so many different kinds of pencils for, but he finds himself wandering the aisles of the store nonetheless, fingers trailing across the different sketchbooks and rattling through markers and pens.  He picks up a poseable figure and turns it in his hands and wonders how someone can see that and turn it into something else.  Despite his occasionally somewhat active imagination he’s never been much of a creator.

“Can I help you?”  The kind voices startles him out of his thoughts and Kei wonders how long he’d been drifting this time.  Probably long enough to make the old man next to him worried about what he’s doing in the shop exactly.  He turns to give a meaningless apology and stops when the man’s eyes widen in recognition.  “Oh you’re Kageyama’s friend aren’t you?  The one I’ve seen leaving some mornings?”  Kei isn’t sure of so many things in his life, least of all what to say to this old man, so he just stands somewhat stupidly as the man nods.  “I’m sure you are.  He doesn’t have many friends who stop by after all, though he says he has plenty from that volleyball team.  That’s where he is right now.  Were you waiting for him?”

Kei has never been much for talking but that’s perfectly okay since the old man seems perfectly content to talk Kei’s ear off as he leads him through the store for “the grand tour” even though Kei tried to decline.

“Nonsense.  Kageyama’s a good kid and you’re a good friend to him.  Just come along.”

Kei doesn’t try to deny the statement even though he’s pretty sure he’s not a good anything to Kageyama except maybe a good fuck.

“I’m telling you,” the old man says as he settles down behind the counter and points at a nearby stool for Kei to sit on.  He does, despite not even knowing why he’s here.  He should be in class listening to his lecture and preparing notes for the five different essays he has due in a few weeks not in some out of the way art shop listening to an old man ramble about art supplies and the customers he gets and Kageyama.  “That boy didn’t know a thing about art supplies or art in general before he started.  He just needed a place to live and I needed someone to watch the shop once in awhile.”  The old man sighs and settles his arms on the counter.  “You know I when I found out he was dropping out of University I figured he’d be gone not long after.  Go find some job further into the city.  But he didn’t.  He asked to watch the shop more.  Started reading up on art and supplies and classes in the area.  He’s a little awkward but he’s a hard worker.  And always full of surprises.”

Kei really isn’t sure if he’s supposed to respond or even what he’d say if he were to open his mouth.  So he simply sits and lets the old man’s words wash over him, a comforting blanket of sound that reminds him a little of walking home with Yamaguchi after practice back in high school.  His thoughts wander but he doesn’t think the old shop owner minds much considering he hasn’t really left any gaps in his chatter for Kei to fill.

It’s not until he hears thumping above him that he even registers how long he’s just been sitting there, half listening to the old man ramble on.  He blinks out of his daze and realizes it’s nearly dark out.

“I don’t know what’s on your plate,” the old man says quietly as the thumping leads towards the door and Kei hears the door to Kageyama’s apartment open and shut.  “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told him when he first came to my shop.  You’re always welcome here kid.”

The door opens and Kageyama steps in, hair windblown and cheeks pink even from the short trip down the stairs to the stop, and he pauses when he spots Kei sitting there.

“Tsukishima.”

“Kageyama.”

Kageyama nods to the old man and slips out of his jacket, stepping past Kei’s seat to tuck it under the counter.

“You should be going now Asakura-san.  It’s getting really bad out there.  Your wife will worry if you don’t get home soon.”

The old man smiles and pats Kageyama’s shoulder.

“That’s true.”  He smiles at Kei and leans towards him like he’s sharing a secret.  “My wife’s pretty happy that we have someone as trustworthy as Kageyama here so I can be home more often.”  Kei doesn’t miss the pleased flush on Kageyama’s face and it throws him back to high school so fast that he nearly misses the old man’s next words and the wink that accompanies them. “I doubt it’ll be too busy tonight.  Close up early if it’s quiet enough.  Spend some time with your friend.”

“Yes, Asakura-san.”  Kageyama helps the old man into his coat and walks with him to the door.  Kei thinks that he should leave too, it’s a fairly long walk back to his apartment after all.  Especially in the cold and snow.  He expects Kageyama to ask him why he’s here, to demand answers, to ask what the old man told him, to ask  how long he’s been here.

He’s not really sure why he’s surprised that Kageyama simply glances at him and then goes about his job like Kei’s not even a strange thing to have there.

It shouldn’t surprise him that much, he realizes as Kageyama sorts through and stocks a box of colored pens, brow furrowing as he squints to read the tiny print on the caps and sort them into the right cup on the wall.  Kageyama has basically just let Kei slip into his life like this from the day they met again.

That’s what screwed him up so much.

Whatever he and Kageyama were doing has been so easy and nothing in Kei’s life is ever easy.

It had been easy to fight with Kageyama, easy to push and pull and prod and get just what he wanted from him.  It had been easy to fall into a routine of crashing together and falling apart.  Easy to walk out the door of Kageyama’s apartment or close the door of his own after they’d finished wrecking themselves on the rocky shores of each other’s souls.  Easy to let Kageyama press him down and consume him.

_ Your life, your choices. _

It had been his choice, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it, to gravitate to Kageyama.  To come back time and time again and let Kageyama in each time.

He opens his mouth to tell Kageyama some of this, to share the sudden realization that he thinks he likes Kageyama a lot more than he ever imagined.  That Kageyama simultaneously shakes him to his very core and gives him a steady place to rest.

“I don’t think I’m going back to University after this term,” is what comes out instead.

Kageyama pauses, glances up from the box of pens in his lap, and pins Kei with that gaze of his.

“Okay,” he finally says and drops his focus back to the task at hand.

“That’s it?”  Sarcasm laces Kei’s words and coats his laugh.  “It’s that simple?”

“Changing your life is never a simple choice.”  Kageyama finishes with the box in his lap and takes it to the back room before coming back and settling at the counter next to Kei.  “But it is a little easier when it’s  _ your  _ choice.”

Kageyama frowns a little when Kei stands and pulls his jacket on, winding the scarf around his neck before digging out his gloves.

“Don’t worry,” Kei smirks as he heads for the door and braces himself for the cold walk back to his apartment, “I know where your door is.

He’s not free from the roots of anger that slip from the soles of his feet and he may never be.  But Kageyama somehow uproots him time and time again.  It makes no sense that they work together, Kei thinks one night when Kageyama comes out of the shower and falls onto the bed next to him, but when has logic ever really come into play in their relationship?

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](http://ezzydean.tumblr.com).


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